To Depend on You
by Spare Teacup
Summary: Edmund and Mary have married, and a small London party is trapped at Mansfield Park due to the unfavorable weather. Miss Fanny Price must deal with her recent heartbreak as well as put up with the Londoners, specifically Mr. Henry Crawford. We will see where we go from there.
1. Chapter 1 - Nothing but a Heartache

"...I pronounce you man and wife…" The clergyman announced, obviously proud of himself. They were the only words that penetrated through the haze inside her head.

Fanny was distinctly aware of her breath, the shaky inhale and the difficult exhale. She tried to even it, to keep it from shattering her.

Before her, through the rows of elegantly dressed heads, was Mary, so undeniably beautiful in her wedding gown. Her face was glowing with happiness... wretched happiness. No, that was unfair of her. Next to Mary, right there, standing with all the authority of a husband, was Edmund. His customary mild expression was abandoned today for one of uncontainable joy. His eyes were dancing, unable to decide if the greatest perfection was his gorgeous bride, his dear family, or the beautiful day the heavens bequeathed upon the happy couple.

There were many guests, dozens of them, who had come mostly from town, to see the renowned Mary Crawford get married in a small church in the country. To a parson no less! Yet, if they had been expecting an unfashionable wedding, they were gravely disappointed. Mary Crawford had taken it upon herself to transform the church into the very picture of countryside elegance. Additionally, Mansfield Park would host a delectable and fulfilling wedding breakfast afterwards to every single one of the present guests.

Fanny was unsure if she was reacting appropriately, but she tried her best to fade from the attention of everyone. An exercise so painfully natural to her. There was no one to notice her forced lips, or to note the frequent unfocus of her eyes. The only one with that ability was entirely preoccupied with a pair of dazzling green eyes at the moment.

Fanny took no pleasure in the flowers, the decorations, the gowns, the food, the wine… Mary's exquisite taste and careful attention to detail was unfortunately lost on the poor desolate creature. She seemed to have been forgotten by her relations as well, as they were too busy socializing to even call for her.

As the wedding meal progressed, the numbness that had descended so unwelcomingly since the engagement announcement was at long last lifting.

There was a burn in her heart that was intensifying with every breath she took, a dagger slipping between her ribs. The awareness of her breathing heightened tenfold, until it was all she could hear. She stood, and forced herself to nod respectfully to her table companions, although no one took any notice. She believed she mumbled an excuse, but she was unsure if she truly had said anything.

She leveled her head bravely, and took the walk out of the room as steadily as she could. Each step felt as if she were walking straight into that blade, driving it further into her heart.

In such a daze, she moved down the hall, further into the house. She was unsure where her feet took her until she was pushing open the door of a small private drawing room toward the back of the house. It was so close to the servant's quarters, right next to the servant's stairs, that it was rarely used. It was a room she had oftentimes found comfort to take a moment for herself.

Fanny stumbled into the room and almost made it to one of the four chairs in the room when she sank to her knees. The gasp that escaped her mouth invited another. She struggled to regain her breath, but her lungs refused to function properly. With a foreign sound from her throat, the tears began. She buried her face on the seat of the chair before her in shame, gripping the arms as a sob shook her entire body.

The dagger that had been slipping into her heart now twisted… slowly... ever so slowly.

The agony of contained pained almost made her exclaim aloud, but she kept her cries silent.

Fanny had truly loved him. She had known for a long time now, but perhaps she imagined it would have dissolved when she saw him happily married to another. Perhaps she had never believed he would marry. She had maintained pathetic and stupid hope even after the wedding was announced. It shamed her to remember she had been waiting for a broken engagement, a scandal of some kind, that would drive him back to her.

None of which actually occurred. Because she was but a poor, ugly girl living at his house. An almost uneducated and unaccomplished charity case. The humiliation of her hopes and the pain of what cannot be refreshed the tears anew.

Although she had a fortunate life, Fanny was not a stranger to pain. She had experienced hunger, cold, extreme heat, loneliness, and homesickness. Yet this was a new attack from the universe, and she did not understand it. She could not comprehend why it only grew worse by the minute. She did not know how to handle this sort of pain.

While she did not believe anyone had observed her, she was mistaken, at least partially.

Surrounded by old and new friends, Henry Crawford was indeed enjoying himself. He was introduced to some friends of friends, and Edmund's relations introduced him to even more from their side.

He had turned his charm to the maximum, and was enjoying the attention, when his eyes were drawn to the sad slump of Miss Fanny Price. She was distracted, her eyes lowered but empty, her mind miles away.

It was odd, only a brief passing over. He had been taking in the crowd, perhaps subconsciously verifying the attention was on him, laughing at his newest proclamation. A few were, but not her. She was too far down the table to be part of the conversation.

He turned back to laugh at whatever had been said in response to his joke.

He found himself taking another glance around the room a few moments later, only to see if she was still in the same position. She was not.

She was attending the person in front of her, who was telling a story, and everyone was as well.

Henry returned to his conversation with a shrug.

"Now Crawford, when will _you_ be the one standing at a wedding?" One of his friends laughed at the face he made.

"Perhaps I will stand at your wedding Lucas? Objecting, and saving whatever poor lady you entrapped?" Henry raised his eyebrows at his friend.

Although relatively new, Jacob Lucas was a dear friend of his, more so sincere than any man twice his income. It had taken almost no persuasion to have Mary extend an invitation as he was a genuinely charming man. He had been a long time in love with a certain lady, a good friend of Mary's, who happened to be sitting beside him at the moment.

"Crawford!" Lucas was constantly appalled by his liberal manners, and it provided unlimited amusement to Crawford.

"Mind you, Lucas, it would most certainly be out of nothing more than jealousy for my friend that would incite such a reaction," he grinned.

"Crawford, you know as well as I that you are not invited to any wedding of mine,"

The delightful Miss Croft had been placed next to his friend through only a slight maneuver by Henry himself. She had covered her mouth to hide a giggle at their banter, and the motion had Lucas's attention compromised solely to her again.

Smiling at his friend's little romance, he found his eyes wondering again.

He did not tell himself what he was looking for, because he was unsure if he was looking for anything. But… where was…

He straightened a fraction, attempting to see through the motioning hands, fans, and shifting seated bodies. Where…

There.

The ends of a pale blue fabric disappeared behind the wide open doors of the dining room.

He turned back to his friend. Lucas' eyes were almost round as he listened to Miss Anne Croft detail a recent venture to town.

The poor fool…

Henry gave a slight shake of his head.

As natural as breathing, Henry rose with a slight bow. Neither of his companions noticed as he exited the room.

To leave a breakfast banquet is unspeakable, and if Mary heard of it, she would be absolutely furious. However, there were more people in the large dining room than was accustomed, and Mary entirely preoccupied, carefully making calculations.

Stepping through the doors, Henry was assaulted by the reality of strange houses.

He took a few steps, and chose a direction more or less. While he had inhabited Mansfield Park for an extended stay, he was still unsure of the general layout of the place.

He wandered further into the house than the front rooms destined for company. He remembered these halls that were spotted with portraits of the predecessors of the Bertram line. They were all mildly regal at a declining rate, until the current Sir Thomas Bertram, who sported some of the lost countenance and severity of a man in his position. Henry thought of the son, Tom, who sported none of the grace of a man in power, but the immaturity of a young man of mild consequence.

There was little to nothing to do about it as it was none of his affair.

Henry continued down the hall, trying to remember and orient himself when he noted one of the doors slightly ajar at the end of the halls. All of these rooms were closed, on account of less use than the rooms toward the front. He did not know where any lead in reality.

He took his time coming to the door, a leisurely walk, if you will.

He reached the room in the time it should have taken him to contemplate what he was doing exactly. Henry Crawford, however, was rarely prone to self-analysis, so he pushed open the door.


	2. Chapter 2 - When It's too Late

There were two states in which women are their least appealing. The first was, pardon the insensitivity, the state of giving childbirth. Although Henry had not seen such a sight, it did not come highly recommended. The second was the state of devastating sobs. Devastation alone was manageable, the vulnerableness of women in their weakened state was vastly appealing. Tears, as well, had a certain tenderness. Devastating sobs, however, were entirely out of the question.

Yet here was a woman on her knees, her blue gown draped around her perhaps too thin frame, with the audacity to be in one of those unfortunate states.

She seemed brittle as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. And, thankfully, her face was away from him, buried under her crossed arms and pressed into the chair.

As quickly, and carefully as possible, Henry took a giant step backward. He had not opened the door too much, and he was not going to risk closing it back to where it was. He stood a moment, holding his breath. A few heartbeats later, not hearing any approach from the other side of the door, he hastily took his flight.

Henry Crawford made it his life's mission to find happiness in all that he could. He surrounded himself with happy people, and joined their laughter with his own. He could be serious if circumstances required it. However, that was not the problem. He did not know how to handle someone that was so undeniably sad, specifically women. Now, Mary had cried in his presence several times, yet they had been brief and not in recent years. In addition to all of this, it was rather inconsiderate of the woman to both sob and be on her own, if someone had seen him in the room alone with a lady as such, it would have been scandalous.

Miss Price, yes, it had been her, he was sure of it. He made his way back to the party amid his musings.

Miss Price was practically an absolute stranger. Throughout his long visit to Mansfield, he had become well acquainted with every member of the family, except for the quiet girl. She was strange, not as beautiful as her eldest female cousin, although debatably as pretty as her younger female cousin if she took more care in her wardrobe and overall appearance. Yet, Henry had almost avoided her during his stay because of the mildly accusatory demeanor that she often sported. She looked at Henry with half incredulous eyes, as if she were suspicious of him.

How strange to stumble across her in such a way.

It was then that he emerged from his thoughts, and Henry found himself quite disorientated. He did not recognize this part of the house, it was toward the servants quarters.

Henry took a steading breath to keep from losing his temper irrationally. Why was this house so strangely laid out?

There was a light shifting sound, and Henry turned gratefully. If it was a servant he could order them to take him back to the wedding.

However, it was not a servant. The petite figure of Fanny Price stood there blinking her enormous eyes at him.

The tears had left her empty and exhausted. Truly, she did not understand why she was so upset, if he had never been hers. She had never invested so much emotion in a single person before.

Fanny wanted to make her way back up to her little cramped room in the attic, there she could lay down and rest. Associating with people was a drain to her on a good day, much more today of all days. She would have to take the servants' stairwell to avoid any sort of confrontation, although she doubted her absence had been noted.

She was lost in her thoughts, and generally drained, when she happened to meet someone

"Miss Price," He greeted her with a half bow.

It was strange seeing him, she had neither expected his presence nor desired it at all. The decision to take the servants' stairs was to avoid any interaction at all.

She responded with a nod, not much else. There was a moment there, where they looked on from each other, not quite comfortable to meet the eyes, moreover there was mild irritation at the presence of the other. Fanny often sought comfort in the quiet, finding it refreshing. However, the silence that hung between them pulled and strained.

"Do you need to return to the party, Mr. Crawford?" She asked after an awkward moment of silence. The space between them felt so uncomfortable it begged to be filled.

"Yes, I could accompany you back to the party," He nodded, visibly relieved.

She did not want to return to the wedding, but it was most likely winding down. Edmund and Mary were set to depart for London but a few hours after the wedding. It was with resignation, nevertheless, that she accompanied Mr. Crawford back to the wedding.

They had walked back to the main hall when she noted the girl along the wall. She waved at Sally, a downstairs maid to accompany them, as an additional measure. It would not do to be seen alone with Mr. Crawford, not with his reputation.

As the three walked back, the awkward silence returned once again. It stretched and yawned hideously between them.

Fanny was scanning her mind on what to say, perhaps a comment on the weather, although she could not quite recall what the weather was like in her agitation.

It was then that she conducted the most horrid of schemes for ending long silences.

To be fair, Mr. Crawford had stared intently at a new painting in the hall, one of Lady Bertram that was… creative. In perceiving his attention on it and imagining his opinion, Fanny had taken a step too short, hitting her left foot against her stoic right. Her mind had not been entirely clear that day.

Her hazy mind must not be blamed entirely, however. She was prone to the clumsy disarray of feet even in the clearest of mind sets, possibly on account of nervousness and disproportionate feet.

The beginning of the fall was like one would imagine, in confusion and complete despair. Her descent, however, was interrupted by an arm reaching across her torso. To be perfectly honest, she would have preferred that it let her reach the ground than what happened next.

Being quite unknown to each other, Mr. Crawford had not been standing close to her, therefore he was forced to rush to her side when she tripped. His arms circulated her automatically, without any calculation of his own. In his rush, he was not able to calculate the distance, he came too fast and too afraid. He accompanied Miss Price the rest of the way to the ground.

Mortification immediately filled the two people (three actually, but Sally was not on their minds presently). They sprang apart and on their feet. Henry perhaps would have continued back until he jumped out of the window had Maria not turned the corner at that moment.

"Mr. Crawford! Quickly now, Edmund and Mary are departing, we must see them off." Maria tempted Mr. Crawford, she led the shocked shell of a man, too preoccupied to notice his stiffness or colorless face.

Fanny, on the other hand, was crimson, and darkening by the second. She was also wholly ignored, much to her relief.

Her eyes caught the movement of Sally leaving the room. The maid disappeared into a door, slipping back into the house, leaving Fanny standing alone.


	3. Chapter 3 - When You're Down

1 Day after the Wedding:

"There now, the weather looks absolutely dreadful."

Henry watched the rain from the window. He had been extremely distracted since the day before, his friends believed it may have had something to do with the absence of Maria Rushworth, who was with him when his distraction began.

"Had we left yesterday like our hosts, perhaps we would have escaped the showers." Miss Croft looked up from a book she had no interest in pursuing. She was a bit irritated with her party for causing this entrapment, but she had managed well enough.

"I can assure you that Mr. and Mrs. Bertram were caught in the first part of the storms before they reached London." Jacob added, he was looking at the books on the shelf of the room. He did not seem too keen on picking one up. "They most likely were forced to stop before they even reached town."

"You absolutely mustn't leave in this weather." Julia proclaimed. This was more in self-interest, than for the safety of her brother's guests. With Edmund and Maria both married and away, there was absolutely nothing of interest to do. There was no one to keep her company, and who better to amuse herself with than her new sister's handsome London friends. "We will have arrangements made to extend your stay, at the very least another day, although I suspect two or three."

Of this Julia was mistaken, the guests were destined to be at Mansfield Park not two or three days, but more than a full week.

The first day was shaping to be tremendously fun for Julia. She enjoyed talking and giving her opinion for everything and everyone. Without Maria to rein her in, she verbally took off, dominating as many conversations as possible. The London crowd allowed it with mild amusement. They were not impolite, but they enjoyed the preposterous things that came from the young girls mouth.

The sideways glances, chuckles, and double meaning contributions were not unseen by Fanny. She was naturally an observer, and she could see that more than passing the time with conversation, the London crowd was passing time at the expense of their host. However, she was too preoccupied to ponder it much.

Fanny was unsure of what to do or how to proceed after the embarrassment of the previous day. Would it ignite a scandal? She had not seen Sally nor heard anything from her. Fanny had never been in a situation like this and she was unsure of what would happen or when. She was asked by Lady Bertram to tend to her in the drawing room with the other guests so she found no escape from their company. If she thought on it too long her hands would begin to shake.

"It is perhaps the most nonsensical play I have ever seen," Julia was saying, she had jumped in immediately when Miss Croft brought up some plays she wanted to see. "There were so many people and everyone in love with everyone, that it was impossible to follow."

Fanny was pouring tea for the gathered party. She clenched her hands tightly around the handle of the teapot as she listened to Julia. It was almost the very review from Maria after they had seen the play. Fanny was apprehensive of the embarrassment her cousin was very likely to unwittingly cast upon herself.

"The play, _As You Like It_?" Mr. Lucas shook his head, taking a seat across from the ladies. "That play is romantic, silly at times, but the overall theme is very gentle."

"Oh, we were speaking of _As You Like It_?" Julia took her teacup from Fanny without any word of appreciation. "I thought we were speaking of … another play. No, I simply _adore_ that play. It is so romantic, I felt my heart would burst."

"Romantic? Thank you dear." Miss Croft smiled at Fanny when she was handed her cup. "That play had the most superficial romance I had ever seen. It was nonsense though I loved it as well. It was purely comedic, the romance was but a channel for comedy."

"No, you are completely correct. The romance was superficial, I did not believe it for a second." Julia sipped her tea as if she had not previously said anything to the contrary. "It is nothing like _Romeo and Juliet_. THAT playwright understands true love."

"Yes, THAT playwright can write a love story." Miss Croft hid a smirk behind her teacup. She glanced at Mr. Lucas.

"Completely different," He saluted Julia with his own cup.

Fanny could feel the heat on her face through second hand embarrassment. Thankfully, she was faced away from the general crowd, toward Mr. Crawford, in fact, as she took him his cup of tea. She could not ignore him and refuse to serve him tea when she already tended to the rest of the members of the group, no matter that she desperately wished to do just that.

"Thank you, Miss Price, you should not have troubled yourself." He took the cup from her hands carefully.

Mr. Crawford bent his head to the side and peered at her face.

"Miss Price?" She was sure he had noted her red face, but she took a breath and looked up at him.

"Did you see the play?" He asked gently.

"The play-" She blinked at the unexpected question. "Which one, Mr. Crawford?"

"Why, either of the ones being discussed by our friends over there." Mr. Crawford juted his chin in the general direction of the group.

"I have seen neither plays, but I have read them," Fanny gave him a bit of a nod, and was going to consider that the end of the conversation when he followed up the question.

"Then what of your thoughts on the stories themselves?" He asked, he was not as tall as Tom Bertram, her eldest cousin, perhaps not even as tall as Sir Bertram, her uncle, yet he seemed impossibly tall at the moment, and much too close.

"I am not an avid reader, I'm afraid I did not find the plays as enticing as true admirers may," she said before she could filter the words. She had given too much information, too controversial, with not enough neutrality. She did not wish to have this conversation with him, but he was incredibly tall.

"Not an avid reader?" His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Yet you have read two of the plays by the famous Bard himself? I would have imagined you to be an impressive reader, given your nature and quiet disposition."

Her nature? Fanny did not like the way that he described her. Quiet disposition? His tone was close to a teasing one. As if he were making fun of her.

"I have read a regular amount, Mr. Crawford," Fanny took a breath. She had never spoken as much to Mr. Crawford, then again, he had never taken much consideration of her presence. "However, I rarely find literature that I thoroughly enjoy. Mr. Shakespeare's plays and sonnets, while pleasant, I cannot connect with his characters and his plots are sometimes too predictable or unpredictable."

"Predictable?" Mr. Crawford shook his head slightly. His hair was curled, and he seemed to like it loose, unlike her cousins that pulled it neatly back. "You predicted that Romeo and Juliet would perish in their love?"

Truly, the last thing she wanted was a literary discussion.

"The story was not about Romeo and Juliet, but the Montagues and the Capulets. To learn their lesson Romeo and Juliet, the most beloved by their respective families, had to perish. Their deaths were inevitable."

"I have not thought of it as such," Mr. Crawford stroked his beardless chin. "I had thought it was a beautiful love story."

"It is a beautiful love story." Fanny agreed. "Two young people finding love in what should be their enemy. Their death is more tragic by their youth, the possibilities they never had."

"It is true, people find love in the strangest of places," A strange look befell his face, and his eyes unfocused for a moment.

An even stranger thought entered Fanny's mind. Had Mr. Crawford been in love before? That look seemed to suggest a long forgotten, bittersweet story.

Fanny ducked her face as she felt it heat from embarrassment. It was completely improper to pry, even mentally. Her skin prickled at the thought of the improper position they had found themselves the day before. Her emotions rose again, and she knew it was time to step away.

"Miss Price," Mr. Crawford stepped forward, reaching out as if to stop her from leaving. She effectively evaded his hand by taking the half drunk tea from his other hand and stepping away.

She realized what she did and mortification filled her with every step of the way back to the larger party. She had just taken a cup from a guest's hands before they were done. She had never committed such a rude transgression.

She replaced the cup and saucer to the tray, her hands had a slight tremor. Should she pour him another cup? She was not sure she could do so without erupting from embarrassment. It was nothing compared to what had occurred yesterday, yet, today was her fault entirely. Was she doomed to only awful interactions with the man?

Both Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris were in need of more tea. She began the preparations, but her hands were damp and still had a tremor. She glanced up to the people present to see if they had realized any difference in her.

Her aunts, Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris were in deep discussion over the finer details of the wedding. Specifically, how much everyone had loved the decorations. Fanny shook her head a bit, she could not think of the wedding now, although the inevitable pain pulsed in her chest. Miss Croft was pointing to a place in her book, and Mr. Lucas was leaning over her to peer at the book from behind her seat. Julia, sitting right next to Miss Croft, was leaning toward Miss Croft, as if also interested in what the book said. She was, however, looking straight at Fanny.


	4. Chapter 4 - A Fool's Game

2 Days after the Wedding:

There was very little else she could do. The rain had let up, and there was a bit of sun shining through the clouds. Perhaps it would stay dry enough for the roads to become safer. For now, the Mansfield party had suggested an outing outdoors. Every one of them was tired of each other's close company even if they were too polite to say so. Lady Bertram was attending, and of course, Fanny had to attend her. She could not escape this outing.

Julia, in a surprising indulgence of hostess thoughtfulness had ordered their lunch be prepared as a picnic. As they traveled through the back gardens and toward the stream that wound around the exterior of the woods at the back of the property, they came to realize that Julia's efforts perhaps were in vain. The ground was much too soft and wet to really enjoy a blanket spread. The outdoor tables and chairs were soaked, having not received enough of the weak sun to dry properly.

Fanny trailed Lady Bertram this entire time, effectively evading the Londoners, in particular Mr. Crawford, who every so often craned his neck, looking for an opportunity to fall behind. They were perfectly paired, however. Mr. Lucas led Miss Croft behind Mr. Crawford who had Julia attached fast to his arm, and Fanny accompanied Lady Bertram behind them all.

Fanny hoped that a wet picnic would persuade the party to return to the house, where she could hide better. Additionally, her shoes were too thin for the soft ground and wet foliage.

"Nonsense," Miss Croft waved away Julia's concern. "We may very well have a picnic here. You underestimate a Londoner's instance on good weather."

Miss Croft expertly nudged Julia and Lady Bertram to order servants to clean the tables and chairs, as well as bringing out more furniture from the house.

While the preparations were being made and lunch was readied, someone suggested an extended walk about the grounds. Mansfield Park maintained beautiful grounds and gardens, obvious even in the grey, rain-soaked day.

They followed the paths, and Fanny was surprised when Mr. Lucas accompanied Lady Bertram and herself. He was a handsome, charming young man and he asked questions, which Lady Bertram was more than willing to answer. In fact, he asked only two questions before she was speaking extensively.

The three lead the group. Through the bushes and flowers, they followed the winding paths. Fanny was infinitely grateful for Mr. Lucas, as she could walk in silence and enjoy the scenery. She did not often enjoy the outdoors, but the flowers perked from the rains and their faces searched for the sun. Their leaves were heavy with rain. The smell that omitted from them was rejuvenating and peaceful.

The lane narrowed with thicker trees and shrubs. Fanny was directly behind Mr. Lucas and Lady Bertram with no hope of rejoining them, unless the path opened again. She noted this when Miss Croft pushed past her, leading Julia.

"Do excuse me, dear Miss Price," Miss Croft said, taking Julia with her. Her chatter could be heard long after they were in front of her. Julia turned back at Fanny with a slight frown, but the allure of the full attention of Miss Croft was too much.

So concentrated she was on the strangeness of what had occurred, she stumbled slightly on a blemish of the path. She regained her footing but there was a person beside her now.

"Mr. Crawford," She said almost in resignation.

His hand was on the small of her back, with the lightest of touches. It was enough, however, to completely burn her with mortification on the inside. She took a breath and faced the man standing over her.

He retreated his hand, but he held out his arm for her to take.

Fanny looked ahead to the quickly departing party in a sort of plea. Mr. Lucas and Lady Bertram were barely viable through the foliage, and Miss Croft and Julia were nowhere to be seen. They must have passed the others as well.

With the greatest reluctance, Fanny took Mr. Crawford's arm. He led her gently, but that did not stop her heart from beating much too hard against her chest.

"You are upset with me, Miss Price," She whirled to look at him in surprise as she had not expected such straightforwardness. She blinked, surprised again, but this time at his proximity. His hair was even more curled with the humidity in the air, but instead of retracting from his looks, it made him appear wilder, of another species with a completely different set of rules.

His eyes were hazel, soft and non permanent, as if it could change to brown to blue at any moment. Lighter than his sister's intense green. The structure of his face was perfect, as she imagined a rich, handsome young man must look like. Yet, she knew him. She knew how he had treated her cousins, Maira and Julia. She had seen him in compromising positions with Maria. She knew what happened between herself and him too.

"I do not understand, Mr. Crawford," Fanny said, trying to answer without properly answering. "Have I done something to offend you?"

She winced. Wrong question.

"None at all, Miss Price," The smile on his face told her he was also thinking of the cup of tea the previous day. "I deserve every single thing you wish to inflict on me. However, I wish to speak on why I have offended you."

"There is no need," Fanny wished her bonnet was as long as Julia's or Miss Croft's to better hide her face. As it was, she could only face forward to avoid him.

"Please, Miss Price, allow me to beg your forgiveness-"

"It was an accident, nothing came of it," She spoke quickly. This was very dangerous territory.

"But something could…" He said in the most serious voice she had heard him use in the entirety of their brief and superficial acquaintance.

It was enough to stop Fanny in her inappropriately attired steps and look at him. His face was pulled with concern.

"Miss Price, there was someone with us," He said carefully. "The maid saw ..." he let the sentence die.

Fanny shook her head, "She has said nothing, she may not."

"But she may," Henry insisted. "I am concerned for your reputation Miss Price, I can survive a scandal, but you know women recieve an unproportional amount of blame in these … incidents."

"What do you suggest I do then, Mr. Crawford?" Her anger, the one that had been born yesterday was awakening. "Should I take us back in time and not stumble?"

"As marvelous as that adventure would be I fear you would have trouble obtaining a machine," He answered, just as keenly.

Fanny took another breath to relax. He was vexing to say the least. Had he been this concerned about Maria when they had been found in compromising positions? Had he been concerned for any other lady he surely engaged with before his stay at Mansfield Park?

Thinking like that only increased her irritation. There was nothing to be done. She had fallen, he tried to help, but they ended up in a ridiculous situation. Why did he have to bring it up? Could they just not forget it, as it seemed he had forgotten all his other "incidents."

"There is nothing to be done then, Mr. Crawford," Fanny wanted nothing more than to escape this situation.

"There you are!" Julia's voice interrupted what Fanny was going to say. It was just as well, her emotions were running too high to properly say what she wanted to say.

Miss Croft stood further down the path, a strange look on her face, as her walking companion returned to recapture Mr. Crawford's arm. The path was still too narrow, and Fanny gratefully released his other arm.

She was so exhausted, she only stood still as Julia led Mr. Crawford away. Mr. Crawford turned to say something, but Miss Croft called from further up the path.

"Miss Price, are you not joining us?" Miss Croft asked.

"I…" Fanny looked back, there was a path that led straight back to the house. "I have a sudden headache Miss Croft. Please accept my apologies. I will retire for a few moments."

"Oh, Miss Price!" A look of genuine concern passed over Miss Croft's face. She pushed past Mr. Crawford and Julia to come beside Fanny. "You do look a bit unwell."

Fanny did not know if she should feel offended at the comment, as her headache was untrue. She appreciated the support, but that appreciation quickly vanished.

"Mr. Crawford," Miss Croft waved for Mr. Crawford, and he appeared at her side in a moment, Julia promptly abandoned. "Miss Price is unwell, could you walk her back to the house? I am worried for her."

"Yes, of course, Miss Croft," Before Julia or Fanny could protest, Henry had placed Fanny's hand in his arm and was leading her back down the path, the path they had come from.

Fanny sighed at the turn of events, her escape was close, however. Thankfully.

That morning, Henry Crawford had come to the conclusion that he would not speak to Miss Fanny Price again, as she clearly wished.

Yet, when she had so obviously avoided him, he soon found himself to be annoyed and his conviction crumbled. Was it necessary for her to go through so much trouble to avoid him? Was he truly that despicable?

As they walked in a group, he could feel her eyes on him. She was watching him. He tried to catch a glimpse of her, but she would turn away. That coupled with the strange behavior of last night, he knew he needed to apologize at the very least.

It was very strange, by the time they reached where the ladies wanted to have some sort of godforsaken picnic, Henry was convinced. He needed to speak to Fanny.

She was an interesting character, one that he had not paid much attention to before. Her behavior toward him was that of someone trying desperately to escape his attention, which, of course, brought her to his attention.

The party decided to take a stroll and Henry knew his friends were up to something. They seemed too gleeful, too purposeful. Jacob, miraculously left Miss Croft's side. To join Lady Bertram no less.

After a moment, Miss Croft had linked arms with Miss Bertram and they were off. This left Henry walking alone, trailing behind through trees in confusion. He remained confused until he spotted Miss Price, left behind as well.

He walked at her pace, allowing her to enjoy her stroll as she did. She would reach out once in a while to shake the droplets from the plants.

Miss Fanny Price was not a devastating beauty, but she had a quiet pleasantness around her. He had never seen her aggravated or angry other than slight exasperation with himself. It was reasonable, given what he had accidentally done, but surprising nonetheless.

He was speeding up to her when she stumbled. He did not intervene this time, he did not think she would appreciate it. Although he had to fight back a smile, this was the second time she lost her balance in his presence.

Henry did not help her when she stumbled, but he did put out a hand to steady her. She looked at him with the funniest of looks; such as one given to an unknown vegetable.

He attempted to apologize, but she insisted on interrupting him, just as Jacob Lucas would. He did not understand where the comparison came from. She seemed to want to ignore the entire ordeal. Ignore it and ignore him.

"I am concerned for your reputation Miss Price, I can survive a scandal, but you know women recieve an unproportional amount of blame in these … incidents." He said ominously at her decree that nothing came of it.

He had her attention now. She was looking at him through rounded dark eyes. They contrasted well with her light brown hair and pale skin. It was when he decided. He did not care to be ignored by this lady.

"What do you suggest I do then, Mr. Crawford?" Her irritation was completely surprising. He thought her incapable of such emotions. "Should I take us back in time and not stumble?"

"As marvelous as that adventure would be I fear you would have trouble obtaining a machine," He did not know where that ridiculous comment came from.

Miss Price took a breath, he realized she was vexed. At him. Was he to blame?

"There is nothing to be done then, Mr. Crawford," She said quietly. Her words brought a certain amount of strange fear to him. That she was truly and irreversibly angry with him.

She was interrupted before she could speak more, he was unsure if he was relieved or annoyed at Miss Bertram's sudden appearance.

Immediately, Julia Bertram conversed on from where she had left off from before, but he was not paying much attention as he was trying to get a look at Miss Price. He did not like the course of the conversation they had shared.

Miss Croft pushed past them to go to Miss Price. Good, she was an expert emotional reader, she could take care of Miss Price.

His relief was short-lived when Miss Croft called him. He was by her side in a moment, Miss Bertram forgotten.

"Miss Price is unwell," Miss Croft informed him, concerned. "Could you walk her back to the house? I am worried for her."

"Yes, of course, Miss Croft," That explained her annoyance perhaps? Miss Price was unwell, it made him feel better to know that it was not he that caused her unfortunate disposition. How could it have been anyway? He was only trying to apologize. An incident that was not even entirely his fault at that.

The walk back to the house was a quiet one, she really did seem exhausted. It was a different quiet from the ugly ones that seemed to be a common theme between them. Not as unpleasant.

They were approaching the house and Henry combed his mind to find something that could help her, any words of encouragement. He remembered what he had seen days before, what the incident had overshadowed.

"Miss Price," He interrupted the silence.

She made a little sound of acknowledgement.

"Time does not erase all pains," He said, he felt as if he were speaking to himself though. "It does not even ease sorrow. They lie. But it only gives us the strength to ease it ourselves."

He did not look at her face, so he did not see the pain cross Miss Price's face. He held the door for her to enter, effectively completing his task to bring her to the house.

"You are right, Miss Price, there is nothing to be done."


	5. Chapter 5 - Cold Rain

3 Days after the Wedding:

Mr. Crawford was a strange man, Fanny decided. He was preposterously arrogant, but his strange parting words resonated within her despite herself.

Time does not erase pain, it does not even ease sorrow. The pain in her heart told her the words were true.

She lowered the brush in her hand and looked at the sad girl in the mirror. Really looked at her, for the first time in a long time. She was pale and the shadows under her eyes were darkening. Worst of all, her eyes betrayed all her emotions. She was quite the pitiful creature. She had told herself that time would heal her broken heart, but he was right. It would never heal, not properly, just as a broken bone was never the same again.

 _There is nothing to be done._

She lifted a hand, looked at her thinning fingers carefully, as if she had never seen them before. Mr. Crawford had held her hand to his arm when he said that and, perhaps even unknowingly, had pressed her fingers reassuringly.

He said time could only give her strength to ease the sorrow herself.

Could he have been speaking from experience?

Then perhaps he knew the pain of unrequited love. Could he possibly know what it was to hold in so much love, to yearn to pour it into indifferent hands?

Tears streamed down her face. The reality of her stupid love coming to her once again. They were silent this time, however. In the future, perhaps, she would have the strength to not shed them at all.

The thought of it made her smile, at least a small empty smile.

She stood and finished dressing, readying for breakfast.

Breakfast was always her favorite meal. The family usually rose later, and she enjoyed a meal to herself.

Fanny was looking forward to the refreshing meal, only to find another resident already in the hall.

"Good morning, Miss Price," Miss Croft greeted cheerfully. "I hope you are feeling better. You did not join us last evening!"

"I…" Fanny was still reeling from surprise. The London party usually rose later as they were still keeping London hours.

Miss Croft gave a far off smile, not really expecting her to answer.

"I must say I was disappointed in your absence, but completely understand your delicate health." She prepared herself another plate of food. "However, I'm not sure everyone in our party understood your absence as well."

Fanny had not been subject to Miss Anne Croft's direct attention in this manner before, so she was duly unprepared by the intensity of her conversation. This was a very direct and confident young woman. It explained the constant flustered state of Mr. Lucas.

"Apologies," Fanny managed to mumble before Miss Croft practically cut her off.

"We were discussing plays, and Mr. Crawford made the most curious observation about _Romeo and Juliet_." She motioned for Fanny to sit by her. "He has always had the most romantic of notions, I have known him for as long as I've known Mary, Mrs. Bertram, I should say."

Fanny winced, it was too sudden, the way she said it. Miss Croft watched her carefully.

"Regardless, I have known him for years. He has always had fantastic opinions on plays, operas, even musical composition. Yet, yesterday, he took a more cynical approach, an intellectual description I would have never associated with him."

Fanny began to eat her own breakfast, realizing she would never eat if she waited for Miss Croft to finish talking.

"It was quite fascinating really. He said the play was not about the tragic youths, but about the animosity between the two families." Miss Croft shook her head. "I, of course, disagreed, but Mr. Crawford made such a show I had to ask how he had come to that conclusion. He defended himself so exquisitely, it was a time before I was able to draw from him that it was a point that you, Miss Price, had made before."

Fanny settled her teacup into its saucer carefully. She felt as if Miss Croft was testing her, or perhaps trying to prove something. She did not know Miss Croft well, and was a bit afraid of where she was going with this.

Miss Croft did not need her to answer to carry on the conversation. "I was wondering if you two were such good friends that you had this conversation at some point. I had not noticed you two talking for any extended period. Although perhaps yesterday, you were his partner in our walk through the gardens. I find it excellent that he takes your arguments so seriously and defends them in such a manner."

If Fanny was uncomfortable before, she was even more uncomfortable now. She did not understand what Miss Croft was implying.

"Speaking of the walk yesterday, I hope it was not the root cause of your discomfort and consequential fall of your health," Miss Croft added in a rush.

Fanny had only time to reassure her that it was not so, when she realized they were joined by someone.

It was the man himself, Mr. Crawford.

"Miss Price, Miss Croft," He bowed "What lovely visions so early in the morning."

Interestingly enough, Fanny's usual flight instinct did not engage this time, most likely because he was saving her from Miss Croft's strange one-sided conversation.

Mr. Crawford, was all decency, asking after her health and Miss Croft's rest. They spoke of the weather and while the meal was not as pleasant as she had anticipated when it had just been herself, it was not a complete drain on her energy. In fact, she agreed to show Miss Croft to the conservatory. And she did not mind when Mr. Crawford offered to join them.

Walking there, Miss Croft took Fanny's arm, almost getting her caught up in the whirlwind of energy. She understood Julia's eagerness to hold this lady's attention. She was a master of charm and conversation, her good opinion seemed worth having. Miss Anne Croft was a lady that owned the world and was sure of her place in society.

Fanny allowed herself to be almost dragged to the conservatory. Mr. Crawford not to far behind.

"Oh, it is absolutely magnificent," Miss Croft expressed when they had reached it. The rain was visible outside, it had increased to sheets of grey water. The room was annexed to the house so they did not have to step out into the rain to reach the room.

The conservatory itself was not the most magnificent. It was decently cared for by a lovely gardener, but no one in the family paid any special attention to it. It was quite a sight, however to be among nature while the weather was so unfortunate.

There was a small, intimate sitting area, and Fanny ordered tea.

They were just settled when Miss Croft leapt to her feet in excitement.

"I just remembered that I may have brought my paints with me, I could paint some flowers here in the conservatory to pass the time."

"I could have someone bring painting supplies," Fanny stood too, Maria had bought many when she believed she had found a new hobby. It had not lasted long, and the paints had been stored.

"I am almost certain I brought my own, dear," Miss Croft waved her away. "I will return in only a moment. Perhaps I can paint you as well, how fun would that be?"

In that moment, Miss Croft disappeared to the short path through the foliage to the door.

"Miss Croft is quite energetic, is she not?" Mr. Crawford chuckled.

"She is delightful," Fanny sat back down carefully.

She was alone once again with Mr. Crawford. How did this keep happening? And just when the morning was going well enough.

"I have known her for many years, I can assure you this is a mellow version of Miss Croft." He shook his head.

Fanny almost smiled.

The door to the conservatory remained open. She could tell because the air in the conservatory was usually still, nothing but the plants to inhabit the space.

"Have you known Miss Croft and Mr. Lucas long, Mr. Crawford?" Fanny grasped desperately at any topic of conversation. Then she remembered he had just mentioned he knew Miss Croft for years and felt ridiculous.

"Miss Croft is a good friend of my sister. They met when they were adolescents, when Miss Croft's family came into our neighborhood. They were thick as thieves for years before they separated to go to different finishing schools." Mr. Crawford stood to roam the space, looking at the flowers. "They reunited when they came out to society, not as close, but still well enough companions."

"That's wonderful," Fanny murmured. She tried to imagine Mary, Mrs. Bertram, as an adolescent, but it was difficult. It was as if she was always a beautiful woman, Miss Croft as well for that matter. Thoughts of Mrs. Bertram, of course, led to thoughts of her Mr. Edmund Bertram.

"Lucas, however, is a new acquaintance of mine. Mr. Lucas, pardon me." Mr. Crawford continued talking. "We were introduced through a mutual friend in town. He knew me for only a few days, but he helped me immensely in a business matter. Do you know, in one of our first meetings, Lucas spilled a beverage on a fussy matron to save a young lady's reputation."

"Oh," Fanny was shocked at such a confession.

"I will not mention names, to protect them, but a matron at a ball was commenting on the dresses of the young ladies present. The other's were agreeing with her, and very likely to repeat the observations as their own later in the day and throughout the next day, setting the reputations of the ladies as either stylish or unfashionable." Mr. Crawford returned to the seat across from her, his eyes shining. Despite herself, Fanny was intrigued.

Henry had not expected to have had such a pleasant morning. The trip to the conservatory was a surprise as well, he had not even known that there was a conservatory.

Miss Croft's sudden flight was not surprising in the least. He could tell she was scheming the moment she suggested the trip, her actions and expressions were very similar to his sister's.

Conversing with Miss Price was pleasant but he noted her face darkened when he mentioned Mary. He quickly moved on to Lucas, hoping to distract her.

He could feel her attention, as he recounted the crazy tales with Lucas. She was leaning forward, open and actively listening.

"The other ladies were agreeing with her, and very likely to repeat the observations as their own later in the night and throughout the next day, setting the reputations of the ladies as either stylish or unfashionable." Henry did not want to explain how long it had taken for Mary to explain the complicated web that was women's social positioning.

Miss Price's eyes were unfamiliar. They were usually dark and distant brown, now they were attentive almost a honey color, they locked onto him, very much present.

"Lucas happened to be close when he heard the matron mention the name of a certain young lady. Now, Lucas was acquainted with the lady's family's unfavorable economic situation. He knew the matron would ruin the poor girl's chances by speaking ill of her, so he asked me a ridiculous question that caused me to shove him playfully. He purposely tripped backward, spilling his beverage onto the matron, stopping her mid-critique."

A half-laugh escaped Miss Price before she could cover her mouth in shock.

"He practically blamed me, but that matron had a niece she wanted to introduce, so I was not in much trouble." Henry enjoyed making her laugh, and he wished the story were longer.

"Was she hurt in any way?" Miss Price's eyebrows furrowed. Her lips still tugged at a smile, but she tried to regain seriousness.

"None at all, save a small bruise on her pride," Henry realized that while the story was humorous, it was set for more intimate friends, and did not show him as having much discretion.

"Oh what a surprise!"

Both Henry and Miss Price jumped at the sudden intrusion.

Miss Bertram was dressed impeccably today, in a soft, delicate dress and hair neatly arranged. She looked down when Henry faced her. He stood to mark her entrance and greeted her.

She gave Miss Price a smile, and sat beside her. Henry was vaguely surprised, Miss Bertram usually ignored her cousin since the Londoners had stayed at the house.

"I tend to take walks in the conservatory, what a surprise that I chanced upon you two." She began speaking immediately.

"We were waiting for Miss Croft, she was going to bring her painting things," Henry informed her. He could not help but smile. Miss Bertram never took walks in the conservatory the whole time he had been here.

"Fanny, would you mind calling the servants to bring more tea?"

The impropriety of signing off her hostess duties, aggravated Henry, but he said nothing as Miss Price stood and rang for the servants.

"One cannot possibly ignore such beautiful flowers, isn't that right Mr. Crawford," Miss Bertram pulled his attention back.

"Of course not, Miss Bertram," Henry raised an eyebrow. The conservatory at Everingham was in a much better state than here at Mansfield Park. "Exceedingly well placed foliage, if I had ever seen any."

"Exactly my point!" She waved a hand. "Placement is very important for optimum sunlight."

Miss Price returned, she had returned to her more quiet, reserved state. Lady Bertram and Miss Norris accompanied her.

"I was just telling Miss Norris, I haven't the faintest idea as to where these young people have gone to." Lady Bertram was saying. "I would have never guessed the conservatory, what a splendid way to spend the day."

"Fanny, where are my paints? I will join Miss Croft when she returns," Miss Bertram asked.

Miss Price blinked at her. She probably never had paints, Henry guessed.

"I will search for them," Miss Price gave a nod.

"I will bring a book from the library," Henry stood to join her.

"A marvelous idea, allow me to join you, Mr. Crawford," Miss Bertram was at his side in a moment.

"Of course, Miss Bertram. Perhaps we will find Mr. Lucas and have him join us as well," Henry offered his arm to Miss Bertram and in a surprise turn, offered his other to Miss Price.

"We can take you as far as you need Miss Price," Mr. Crawford said.

Miss Price cautiously took his arm.


	6. Chapter 6 - Like a Clown

After asking a few servants, Fanny was able to locate the never before used paints. She dusted the box carefully, and checked that the paints and brushes were still in good condition. Discarding a bottle, she took the box back to the conservatory.

At this point, Fanny had given in to what she considered now as her constant state of confusion. Mr. Crawford seemed to want an acquaintanceship of some sort? Miss Croft was extremely kind, but quite dramatic in her conversations. Even Mr. Lucas was more considerate of her than previously.

When she returned to the conservatory, the entire party was assembled and taking on various tasks. Lamps had been lighted as the grey skies darkened. It did not deter Miss Croft who had taken a position a bit away from the seating area. She was intensely focused on a flower and it looked like her efforts were shaping into a formidable . Lucas and Mr. Crawford were both seated with books, but it seemed Miss Bertram was forcing their attention from them.

Fanny asked a man servant to assist her in setting up the canvas for Miss Bertram, but Mr. Lucas easily brought a chair beside Miss Croft and aided her in the accommodations. Fanny thanked him quickly before her surprise showed.

Turning her head slightly, she noticed on odd look from Mr. Crawford which she assumed was confusion as well.

"Miss Bertram, your paints are ready for you," Mr. Lucas announced, taking back his seat.

Julia seemed hesitant to leave Mr. Crawford's side, but the pretty shape of Miss Croft's work was too tempting to leave be. She took up her prepared seat and began to mix her paints, complimenting Miss Croft vehemently.

"Fanny, untangle this mess." Mrs. Norris handed Fanny some string from her needlepoint. Indeed it was tangled perhaps beyond repair. Mrs. Norris had recently decided to try her hand in the art and the string had proved to be uncooperative.

Fanny sat beside Mrs. Norris and took the string in her lap. Carefully, she loosened the knots and tried her best to untangle the sting as Mrs. Norris tugged on it.

"Oh come now girl," Mrs. Norris shook her head. "You can't very well spend the entire day with this."

These comments were not uncommon at Mansfield Park, particularly directed at her. Yet, she felt her cheeks warm a bit more than usual. The reason being the two gentlemen sitting not too far could perhaps here.

It was strange, these past few days she had almost felt a part of the party. The small comment from Mrs. Norris was enough to remind her of her place in the household.

With a swallow, she focused on her task and quickly finished before Mrs. Norris had a chance to scold her again. She refilled their tea cups and ordered more refreshments. Lady Bertram usually became hungry around this time before the midday meal.

"Lady Bertram," Mr. Lucas stood to stand beside the ladies. "Could I beg of Miss Price to show Mr. Crawford and I a tour of the conservatory?"

"Oh I'm certain all of you young people would like to take a walk," Lady Bertram clapped her hands.

"Ah, we would not like to interrupt Miss Croft and Miss Bertram as they seem very concentrated, and one must never interrupt greatness." Mr. Lucas gave a charming bow.

"Of course Mr. Lucas!" Lady Bertram waved at Fanny. "Come now Fanny what are you waiting for? Take these good gentlemen to see the rest of the conservatory."

Fanny obediently stood, the conservatory was not as great that it would require a tour, but she obliged. It was only large enough that you could not see one extreme from the other.

The men fell into step behind her.

"I am certain there are larger conservatories in London," Fanny told them apologetically. She turned to look at them, they seemed entertained nonetheless. Perhaps the burden of boredom was that great that they wanted any sort of entertainment.

"Gregory, the gardener takes care of the conservatory as he best can." She said. "He is particularly proud of these flowers." She, unfortunately could not remember what they were called as much as Gregory gushed about them.

"They are quite beautiful," Mr. Crawford observed them, hands behind his back. "These types of lilies are particularly difficult to keep in England as their nature is more toward the tropical climates of the south."

"Oh," Fanny looked at them again with newfound appreciation.

"Yes, you can tell someone cares very much for them." He continued.

* * *

Mr Lucas watched this exchange with increased fascination.

Never in his association with Crawford had he ever shared any knowledge of any flora, or even alluded to its possession.

He admitted that yesterday he had not quite believed Miss Croft's rushed whispers. He knew she was in dire need of amusement and she had found it in imaginative suppositions.

 _He had been delighted when she had taken his arm for the walk. She pulled them ahead so as to keep from being overheard by Crawford and Miss Bertram behind them._

" _Mr. Lucas you may not believe me but I need a great favor from you. It is for an experiment."_

 _He must have given her an incredulous look because she furrowed her brows at him._

" _Come now, it is completely harmless." She gave a glance behind. "I just want to see Mr. Crawford and Miss Price speak with each other. I believe they should be better acquainted."_

 _He agreed to her little scheme and he had to admit, it was more entertaining than he initially believed._

Even now he found himself contributing to Miss Croft's efforts with his own. Not only was Miss Croft pleased, he was privy to these strange interactions.

As she led them, Miss Price would look over her shoulder bashfully to impart other tidbits of useless information. Crawford was completely engrossed, and nodded along.

This was very strange for his friend.

In the short time he had known Crawford, he understood the mannerisms that he took on when he was with a lady. He would feign ignorance or interest to attract her attention. He would impress to gain her attraction. Many times his own efforts were not necessary, his status and income were enough.

Yet, here was that same friend giving no appearances. He was genuinely interested in the lilies as if his own conservatory did not sport the most exotic plants and flowers. He was certain Crawford did not even know half of what was in there.

He gave Miss Price a second glance, he was ashamed to admit the girl had made no impact on him before and he rather ignored her altogether. It was doubly shameful for him of all people that also did not have a wealthy family and had been on the receiving end of the same prejudices as she endured.

She was a quiet creature and painfully shy. It was quite easy to lose track of her as she was always silently coming and going attending to Lady Bertram. He wondered how Lady Bertram was able to function without the girl. She was obedient and well-mannered regardless of her treatment.

Physically, however, she was not what Lucas imagined Crawford might find interest in. She was small and unremarkable to look at. Her hair was plain and she dressed in muted colors. Her gentleness was at great contrast with Crawford's taste for adventure.

It was not his position to remark these differences. However, he was amused enough to continue his observations. Perhaps he may even report back his thoughts to Miss Croft.

* * *

She was quiet again, as she usually was when others of the party joined them, but she did not seem uncomfortable. Leading them in the tour she was forced to speak, her voice was sweet and timid.

Henry wished he knew more of plants to tell her about, she seemed genuinely interested in the topic. It sometimes appeared as if she did not care about the topic of conversation the young people would speak of. She only attended to her aunt silently. However, every once in a while she would glance up and there was a small spark of interest in her eye. Sometimes it was literature or history, almost always when it was descriptions of trips or of foreign locations.

Even now she seemed intrigued with the plants he was describing. He cursed himself for not paying more attention when his gardeners brought them in.

"Miss Price, you seem to have an interest in travel, have you taken many trips?" Henry asked.

Lucas had stopped to observe a plant that for the life of him he could not understand why it suddenly intrigued him. But he was glad to be standing with Miss Price while they waited. He liked to stand beside her because he found their height difference almost comical.

"No, Mr. Crawford, I have not had the opportunity to do so," Miss Price answered without looking at him.

Of course she wouldn't have. Henry felt a bit ashamed for asking. She most likely was not invited to many outings let alone long trips.

"But I enjoy listening about trips people have taken." She did look at him then. She had to lift her head standing so close to him. "My brother is a naval shipman and I enjoy the recounts of his adventures."

Her eyes softened at the mention of her brother and Henry could not help but smile. She seemed to have deep affection for her brother.

"It seems the ladies have finished their paintings," Mr. Lucas had his back to them, craning his neck over the path they had come from. "Shall we return?"

"Yes," Miss Price answered quickly.

Henry watched as she hurried to lead them back to the ladies.

As he watched her, he stared intently at the back of her head. He did not move until she looked back for him. When their eyes met, he followed the two, like the clown he was.


	7. Chapter 7 - A Heartache

7 Days after the Wedding:

The rain pulled back from the day before, it was not gone however. There was a constant cold sprinkle that kept them indoors for yet another day. It was enough to prevent the ground from drying and becoming firm enough to safely hold the weight of a carriage.

There was a sort of desperation within the Mansfield party that darkened the atmosphere. It had only been a week since they were trapped together, but they had exhausted the interest in each other, as a child finishes their sweet too soon.

Perhaps the only one that had fresh conversation was Mr. Lucas, but only for Miss Croft, who seemed increasingly occupied the longer they were prevented from leaving the house.

Fanny observed the rainfall, a piece of embroidery on her lap. She had lost inspiration, and she was not an enthusiastic embroiderer in the best of times. The rain, which usually brought her comfort, was now aiding the spiraling of her thoughts.

She thought of Edmund, his kindness toward her and his goodness to all the world. He wanted nothing more than peace for everyone he encountered. She had drifted toward him because his goodness flowed unchecked and there was warmth by his side. Mary Bertram, now stood there in name and with all the rights of a wife. A place she should have taken. Her heart clenched as if it were a fist. No, she did not deserve it. These thoughts were proof. She was a wicked person, with wicked thoughts. That was why she suffered now, it was her punishment given to her by God himself.

The thoughts tightened. Her life had been a blessing, but she had never appreciated the kindness of her uncle and aunt for having taken care of her. She held her breath. She had expressed gratitude, but perhaps she had never truly felt it in her heart. That is why she was being punished. He was gone, completely out of her reach forever. It was what she deserved…

"Miss Price," She was startled from her thoughts, and she shakily released the breath as her mind loosened its grip.

"Yes, Mr. Crawford?" She made to stand but he took a seat in a chair across from her, she could not very well stand over him.

"You were looking into the rain so intently, I thought I could ask what had you so captivated," Mr. Crawford raised an eyebrow. They had settled into a steady acquaintanceship, Mr. Crawford and her. Unforeseen circumstances always made for the best initiators in unexpected relationships.

Fanny looked back outside. The droplets raced against the glass, distorting the outside world.

"It looks like tears," She said softly. The statement had come unbidden, and it was not really her answer to his question, but it was true.

To her surprise, Mr. Crawford did not answer. He looked outside too.

There was a silence that fell between them. The fire crackled in the far side of the drawing room, keeping them warm as the air chilled. There was a soft murmur of the rest of their party, as they played a game of cards. For the first time since they had met, the unlikely pair shared a silence that was not painfully awkward or barely tolerable. They were still very much strangers to each other, but for a moment as they watched the rain, their minds were in equally dark places.

Fanny watched the droplets on the glass, individual and small, they seemed to cry for her. Then she looked past them at the gentle spray on the rest of the world, and strangely enough, she did not feel as alone.

"Mr. Crawford!" A voice shocked both of the meditators from their respective contemplation. It was the same voice that had done so multiple times in the course of the past days.

They both stood, causing a proximity that the two young people were unaccustomed to, or quite prepared for.

For that curious moment, Fanny could see the shine of the buttons on his coat. With a blink, she tilted her head, only to find that he was looking down at her. An exhale from his nose tickled the small loose hair on her forehead. Another blink and they had both stepped away, one to either side.

Julia was standing at the halfway point between the larger group and the couple. There was a smile on her face, one of smugness that she had worn constantly since the London party had been forced to join the Mansfield household. Fanny believed it may have been the anticipation of her sister's jealousy later.

Ever the gentleman, Mr. Crawford departed from Fanny, to stand before his hostess.

"How can I be of service, Miss Bertram?" He was saying.

Fanny's attention swayed, however, toward Miss Croft beyond Julia, preventing her from hearing the rest of the conversation.

Miss Croft had been observing not Julia and Mr. Crawford, who were speaking in the middle of the room with equal eloquence worthy of a performance, but at Fanny. There was something different in her eyes, not her usual fire, ready to spring into something clever, but it was a hard stare, one Fanny could not distinguish.

"An excellent idea Miss Bertram!" Mr. Crawford called out, Fanny snapped her attention back, but it was too late, she had not heard the topic of conversation. "Miss Price, please join us," he began moving a chair to the center of the room.

Julia looked behind her at Miss Croft, it was but a glance and not too out of the ordinary. The oddity of it was the responding look Miss Croft returned.

The gentlemen had arranged four chairs facing each other. Lady Bertram and Miss Norris had joined the group, but they remained conversing by the fire, allowing the young gentry to amuse themselves.

"Who shall begin?" Julia asked excitedly.

"I shall think of a number between one and five," Mr. Crawford said confidently. "You each will give me a number. The closests will begin. If no one guesses it, I shall begin."

"One," Miss Croft clapped her hands, the giddiness of a game infecting her.

"Two," Julia piped immediately afterward.

"Five," Mr. Lucas gave a smirk when Mr. Crawford prompted him.

Mr. Crawford looked at Fanny.

They all turned to her, waiting.

"Four," Fanny said softly. She was still standing by the window, so she took a few cautious steps forward.

"Forgive me, Miss Price," Mr. Crawford smiled at her, a genuine smile that almost made up for what he said next. "But my number was four. You will begin our game."

She had barely enough time to take an anxious breath before she was pulled into the center of the chairs and blindfolded.

"Bu- but what do I do?" She asked, pressing her hands together to hide their tremor. She could see nothing but darkness behind her eyelids.

"Oh come Fanny, you try to guess who is in the chair you choose." Julia's voice answered exasperated.

"You can ask three questions, Miss Price," Miss Croft explained with more patience. "We will try to disguise our voices, however. You may use your knees or hands to make sure there is a chair in front of you."

They went silent then, and Fanny could hear them rustling as they took their seats. She took a breath, trying to clear her head, and hugged her arms, as if she could make herself smaller.

Someone clapped their hands.

Fanny tried to remember the layout of the chairs, so she would not stand between two and embarrass herself. She listened for the crackling of the fire, and the constant mumble from Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris. She turned directly from them, and she took a tentative step forward.

She could not perceive if there was anything before her, she took another step. It was frightening, feeling eyes on her but not being able to see or hear.

Another step and she knocked into some knees, startling her into taking a step back.

"Is there someone there?" She asked with a gasp. The ghost of the touch on her legs left her jarred, and she tried to push it from her mind.

There was only silence.

"Yes," An extremely low voice answered. It was so rich, she could almost feel the sound on her person. She took another half step back.

There were a series of breaths as the rest of the players tried not to laugh. It felt as if they were laughing at her.

She felt her stomach drop as she realized she had spent one of her three questions. Her mind raced for a second question just so that her turn could be over. But she could not lose or she would face punishment!

"Have you a close friend from London...sir?" She guessed it was a man, as the women could probably not make their voice as deep.

"Yes," The voice answered after a moment.

There was another round of stifled laughter. Either at the ridiculous voice or at her idiotic question. Of course if it was a gentleman he would have a friend from London. They were both from London and they were each other's friends…

Oh…

Mr. Crawford was not from London, but from Everingham…

Unless he considered London his home…

"Am…" Fanny took a breath. "Am I an avid reader?"

There was complete silence in the room, but for the fire.

Even the murmurs of Lady Bertram and Miss Norris somewhere behind her stopped.

"No," It answered finally.

"Mr. Crawford," Fanny announced softly. Her blindfold was removed and she nearly collapsed in relief to see him before her.

"Miss Price, I must say, that was extremely clever of you," He was giving her a smile she had not seen before. His eyes were dancing, or perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it was a kind and friendly smile.

"Well, I understood nothing of it," Mr. Lucas chuckled. "I was impressed that you knew that of Miss Price, Crawford. And that she knew to ask a question about herself instead of about you. Well done, Miss Price."

Fanny gave him a smile and a nod. She stepped out of the circle as Mr. Crawford was blindfolded and Mr. Lucas attempted to turn him in circles to disorient him.

She sat in the chair they left empty, and watched as Mr. Crawford turned to Miss Croft. He did not bump into her like Fanny had into him. He guessed her with one question to spare.

Again they switched seats when Miss Croft was blindfolded. Julia giggled as Miss Croft turned in the middle. She finally stopped, settling on Fanny.

She stepped forward, a hand outstretched, and she touched her knee with her fingertips before quickly pulling back.

"Pray tell, fellow peer…" Miss Croft asked dramatically. "Has thine heart ever beat for another?"

The tentative smile that had been slowly growing on Fanny's face immediately vanished.

The fear that had been in her chest when she was blindfolded returned. It doubled, it froze and gripped her tightly.

She did not know why, but her eyes betrayed her, and her glance briefly looked in the direction of Mr. Crawford.

NO…

She pulled them back to Miss Croft. He would think it was he who she was thinking of. She could not answer yes now.

But she could not lie either.

They did not have to know.

But she would be lying.

"No," she breathed. In her distress she had forgotten to disguise her voice.

It had come out as a whisper, formless and gender-less. It's own disguise.

"Truly?" Miss Croft tapped her chin. "Have you just lied to me?"

The question landed on her with the heaviness of all her sins.

It was a game. It was a game. It was only a game.

"Yes," She whispered. She felt her body become heavier with the admission. There was no relief in the confession.

"Then perhaps you will answer this next one honestly…" Her playful demeanor was dropped. Like the stuff of nightmares she asked simply and filled with nothing but disdain. "Have you loved one that belonged to another?"


	8. Chapter 8 - Hold Him

Mr. Crawford drifted from the group, tired of cards. Or so he claimed. He seamlessly wandered to the bookshelf behind them, scanning the titles.

Miss Croft had found great amusement in her friend's brother. Usually the amusement arose from the ladies desperate for his attention. They would always run to Mary, and by extension, herself. Oh how fun it was to watch their frantic composition of an Eligible Young Lady.

This time, it was Crawford himself that was caught in his trap. Granted, he was much more elegant in the game than the ladies of society and their mothers. He was so careful, Anne was positive Miss Price hadn't the faintest idea.

Mr. Crawford took out a book, but his eyes were on Miss Price at the window. With a frown he forced his attention back to his book.

Perhaps…

Anne Croft almost gasped aloud, but she smiled instead at Miss Bertram, who had just said something.

Perhaps, Mr. Crawford himself was unaware of his feelings?

Anne laughed aloud. Thankfully, Julia laughed too, meaning her mental absence was not noted.

This whole past week, Anne had been scheming and positively bending over backwards to give them time together, to force them into activities together, and the couple have remained unaware.

For a moment she was insulted that her exceptional skills went unnoticed, but utter delight in the situation replaced any resentment.

"Miss Croft," Miss Bertram was finally able to make herself heard through Anne's rushing thoughts.

The cards were abandoned now. Anne was the only one still holding them in her hands, she placed them down inconspicuously as possible, and gave her attention to Miss Bertram. The young girl was in constant need for attention it seemed.

"I pray you would not take my words for those of a gossip, for I am sincerely concerned for a… mutual friend of ours." Miss Bertram whispered to her.

Anne glanced at the other occupants of the card table. Mr. Lucas was engaged in a conversation with the older ladies of the house. Miss Bertram did not have much tact with divulging gossip.

"A mutual friend?" Anne could not think of anyone that they shared a mutual friendship with. Mary Crawford perhaps?

"It seems he has been...attentive with a … lady we both know."

Her mind immediately jumped to Henry Crawford, and Miss Price, just across the room. Really this girl had no tact.

"It seems he is ignorant of certain circumstances." Miss Bertram was fully engrossed in telling her secret.

Anne felt the darkness from Miss Bertram, the anger and jealousy. She was plainly jealous of the attention Miss Price was receiving from Mr. Crawford. And while it was usually amusing, as an additional factor to elevate her schemes, it was becoming irritating.

"What circumstances, Miss Bertram?" Anne was pushing back any visible irritation.

"Well, perhaps just a singular occurrence," Miss Bertram paused, always one for dramatics. "The lady in question has been in love…"

Anne saw nothing incriminating in this. A broken hearted girl was all the more in need of tender reassurances.

"With my recently married brother," This she said it so quietly, Anne could have figured she said anything else at all. But the self satisfied smile on Miss Bertram's face could not be coincidental.

Her mind was rushing. She was speaking of Edmund Bertram, her best friend's new husband.

Edmund Bertram.

Anger boiled within her as she realized what she had almost done. Miss Price had loved Edmund Bertram. Anne could have ruined Mary, or at least brought heavy distress on her dear friend, with her schemes to bring the girl closer to the Crawford family. Poor Mary, so in love with a simple country clergyman well below her station. She had confided in Anne how it had been a game at first, how she was amused to see him flutter about, but then she had fallen in love. Mary sacrificed splendid offers for true love, so she could live in freedom. Even the remote possibility of a scandal or distress of her friend's was enough to shock and dismay Anne.

Anne raised her eyes to catch Miss Price's from across the room. Those sad eyes were in pain for Mary's husband then? Jealousy for her friend filled her. She had thought well of Miss Price, but that was before she threatened the happiness of her friend.

* * *

The game was an excellent idea. Henry Crawford could not have chosen a better distraction to the close encounter he had just experienced with Miss Price. It was not proper at all, of course, and he had not been as close to any young lady in a very long time.

Putting the matter aside, they were choosing numbers.

To be perfectly honest, he had forgotten to think of a number before he began asking. It was not until Miss Price said four that he decided it would be four.

He meant to tease her by it, but she looked positively frightened out of her wits.

It brought him no reassurance when Miss Croft and Miss Bertram exchanged looks.

Miss Croft and Miss Bertram rarely exchanged glances. Their sudden camaraderie inspired a bit of wariness that Henry could not quite comprehend.

The game began and Miss Price turned toward him. He could not help but smile as she took a blind step forward.

She took another and her skirts crashed into his knees. She placed a hand forward and used it to support herself for barely a moment. He knew it was necessary to keep her from falling, but he felt a rush that came from the inappropriate touch.

He could barely think straight when she spoke.

He gave her his most ridiculous voice, he hoped would put her at ease. It only made her more tense.

She kept asking absurd questions, and he almost felt for her if it was anything more than a game.

She needed to learn to relax, and join them in this silly game. There was nothing wrong with a bit of silliness now and again.

He could not contain his smile, when he thought of how he would tease her in the future for this.

"Am I an avid reader?"

The question stumped Henry. No, she claimed not to be an avid reader, but she read more than all of this group combined. She could discuss and pick apart any literature he presented her with.

Was the correct answer what she claimed, or what he observed?

"No," he finally answered.

Perhaps that was a smile that tugged on her lips.

"Mr. Crawford," she said quietly. Her hands shaking a bit, almost wringing themselves from nerves.

"Correct, Miss Price,"

She removed the blindfold with relief and she blinked her large eyes to the dim lighting of the room.

He was, of course, spectacular at the game. He had wished he had chosen Miss Price, only to tease her, but Miss Croft was just as fun.

Miss Croft jumped into the game, as he expected her to. She was always one to invest her attention in amusement.

Miss Bertram giggled as Miss Croft turned in the center.

Lucas met his eyes briefly, turning away with a subtle roll. They were not supposed to make any noise at all, the person in the center would be able to guess the positions of those sitting for the game. It was the entire objective of the game.

He was able to refrain from any audible signs of annoyance himself.

Miss Price's eyes widened when Miss Croft stepped toward her, a hand forward to keep from falling.

A smile twitched on the corner of his mouth. Miss Prince's reactions were interesting all on their own even without the element of a game. Now her strange, large eyes were larger, her panic was almost tangible. It seemed to Henry that Miss Croft would probably be able to discover her just from the heaviness of the air around Miss Price.

But Miss Croft played the game, she asked her questions dramatically, as it became of her.

Miss Price's voice was so soft, it wouldn't have been audible if the rest of the players were not required to be completely silent. It did not do much to disguise her, however, due to the lack of possibilities. No one else would disguise their voice like her.

In her panic, Miss Price met his eyes, but quickly looked away.

Henry was surprised Miss Croft did not call her out already. She was probably as certain as he.

She was always one for dramatics.

"Have you … loved one that belonged to another?"

Fanny's shock was absolute and the pallor of her face immediately drained.

Without thinking, he was on his feet.

In the past days, he had interacted with Fanny in a surprising manner. Again and again he seemed finally able to categorize her, and time after time she shocked him, completely confusing him and shattering his expectations.

Here she was again, an utter wreck after a few words from Miss Croft.

He knew she was brokenhearted from the beginning. She had been sobbing in the most undignified way on the day of the wedding. He had assumed…

What had he assumed?

Miss Crofts' question connected the last of the mystery that was Miss Price.

He folded his arms, his mind a confused mess of emotions for the two women in front of him.

They were at a stand still of some sort.

The proud Miss Croft was standing with her arms crossed, the very picture of smugness as she always was. Yet there was a certain anger that Henry did not often associate with Miss Croft. She was rarely, if ever, truly angry. It seemed to be beneath her to fall into such emotions, especially when she teased and played with the other ladies of society, as they were not worth her anger. But she was genuinely angry at Miss Price.

The pale Miss Price was completely devastated. She was such a quiet thing, but she could not hide her emotions. They etched on her face, the pain she had been hiding, the panic of being found out… so many it was difficult to decipher them all. He could not read her as well as he could read Miss Croft or his sister, even Lucas was easier to understand. It was like an open book but in a different language.

Miss Croft lifted the blindfold from her eyes and gave him a sideways look. Miss Price did not look at him, her eyes had become distant as she looked past them all.

It was at that moment that the door to the room burst open.

"Lady Bertram!" A servant maid hurried in, but a boy was inside before she could get to Lady Bertram, who was on her feet in surprise.

They had all forgotten Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris were also in the room.

"Message to Sir Bertram and Lady Bertram!" The boy saluted clumsily and handed her a letter.

The interruption induced a moment of painstaking silence as Lady Bertram read, Mrs. Norris peering at the letter over her shoulder. They both cried out in unison.

Lady Bertram collapsed back into the seat she had occupied as Mrs. Norris snatched the letter from her.

"Go to Sir Bertram immediately!" Mrs. Norris ordered. She seemed torn between delivering the news herself or staying with her sister.

The boy spirited away, eager to earn a penny for his efforts. The maid hurried away with orders to bring salts and teas for her mistress.

Miss Bertram was at her mother's side, straining from curiosity.

"My son!" Lady Bertram welled.

The London party and Miss Price tensed, worried for Mary and Edmund respectively.

"Edmund?!" Miss Bertram took her mother's hand. "What happened?!"

"No, not Edmund," Lady Bertram sobbed into her daughter's shoulder. Miss Bertram seemed uncomfortable with the position. "Tom."

Miss Price, Henry did not know when she had moved, was behind Lady Bertram, dabbing a handkerchief on her forehead.

"Lady Bertram," The servant girl had returned with a tray and with two other maids. "They are here, shall we prepare a room?"

"Yes!" Lady Bertram called out before she fell into what seemed to be a faint.

Mrs. Norris snatched the handkerchief from Miss Price's hand. "Go with them, girl. Help your cousin!"

Without a word, Miss Price disappeared into the chaos.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, dear faithful readers. I have read your comments, and I come once again with an update after so many years. As you may have figured, I am trapped at home with nothing to do but ponder my shameful past, i.e. this unfinished story. I hope you enjoy, I renewed my love for this couple, and I will try to update at least weekly. If you are confused as to the order, I went back and updated chapter 6 so what is now chapter 7 was chapter 6 before.


	9. Chapter 9 - Until Your Arms Break

Her mind was in complete turmoil and it raged enough to disassociate from the frantic scene developing before her.

Fanny watched as Lady Bertram fainted, and as the guests shared uncomfortable glances. She stepped forward more out of habit than from active thought.

Mrs. Norris said something to her, but Fanny heard nothing, she only followed the knobby pointing finger out of the room. Stumbling, she fell into step behind a maid.

In the hall, the meaning of what had only just occurred flooded her senses.

She was far beyond humiliated at Miss Crofts' words, Mr. Crawford's expression was confusing, and more importantly than the drama with the Londoners, she just realized that one of her cousins had an unfortunate accident.

Two large men crashed into her view, panting audibly as they dragged a third man between them. Fanny gasped to hide a scream.

 _Edmund._

The thought was immediate and was banished with relief when she recognized Tom. Only to just as quickly be replaced by concern at his wretched state.

It looked as if the men were carrying a corpse muddied and stinking of alcohol and horse. His messy hair covered his face but it did not hide the blood staining his riding clothes.

She pushed past the maid and led the men to Tom's bedroom. Falling into silent action, she helped the maids finish preparing the room as the men settled the slump of her cousin into the bed.

"You must change his clothes," Finally spoke, just as the men began to depart. She normally would never speak up but she was under a certain amount of stress.

They glanced at each other.

"We have a long journey ahead of us," One grumbled gruffly.

"Another storm will come in," The other almost interrupted his companion in a dismissive attempt to provide an excuse.

A maid brought forth a set of clothes; she regarded Fanny and the two men with confusion. Sally, it looked like.

"Please gentlemen, we are short-staffed and we cannot change him ourselves," Fanny frowned slightly at her cousin, he was completely unconscious. The manservants were assigned to the London gentlemen; they were already called but time was of the essence and they had much to do before the rest of the family made their way to come see Tom Bertram.

"That is not our problem, Miss," They both made to leave, giving an almost offensive salute as a farewell.

Something pressed in her chest and Fanny knew she was beyond exasperated. The pressure of the day had been immense and her limited power was waning miserably.

She seized the clothing from Sally and pushed it into the closest man's arms.

"It will take you less than a minute," She said softly, for try as she might, she could not bark an order. She slid out of the room, not waiting for an answer. The maids trailed after her quickly, giving the men some privacy.

"Bring ointments and bandages," Fanny never ordered about servants, but they were looking at her with such expectation, and she was too exhausted to make suggestions. "Ask Cook to make soup, and any other medicinal remedies; we do not know exactly what we are treating. I believe the messenger boy may have gone to fetch the doctor, but make sure."

She had nodded to each girl in turn. She gave the last task to Sally, and the maid gave an answering nod and even a small smile. Fanny appreciated the trifle gesture more than the girl could ever know.

The door to Tom's bedroom swung open, and the burly men stepped out. They did not seem pleased with the temporary delay in their plans or being pushed around by what looked to be a simple maid.

"Happy?" The first grunted at her. The other gave her a jerk of the head and they stalked down the hall.

Fanny again nodded to the maids and they hurried after them.

Propping the door open, she went immediately to work. She knew Sir Bertram was surely on his way now, having received the letter from the lad. Lady Bertram was being attended to by Julia and possibly Mrs. Norris, although the widow was due before any of them. Peering at her cousin, she knew they would all be upset to see him in this state, she herself felt queasy.

Sally had chosen the perfect clothing, casual enough for his comfort, but not enough that it was improper. The loose white shirt and dark trousers were what he usually used to lounge in the house when he was not out with his friends. The men had made a haphazard job of dressing him, but Fanny was able to tug and adjust as she wiped the grim and blood from his visible extremities. As she worked, she noticed his bruised skin looked worse exposed than with the layer of mud. It was also warm to the touch, his breathing irregular. The first maid, Nora, returned promptly with bandages, ointments, and warm water.

"Sir Bertram is speaking with the gentlemen." Nora said, helping her hastily adjust a blanket over him. "Cook is up and the doctor is called for. Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris are-"

Commotion at the door finished the rest of the sentence for Nora. Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris entered the room with exclamations and cries. Fanny quickly covered what she discovered as a bloodied and pus secreting leg, before jumping back out of the way of the hysterical women.

Sir Bertram soon followed suit, he offered Fanny an appreciative nod before taking position at the foot of his son's bed. Then Sally arrived and tried as inconspicuous as possible to station her collection of ointments and herbs at Tom's empty desk. Fanny helped her, motioning toward the hall when the doctor finally stepped in, led by a servant.

"They will need some time with their son," Fanny informed them back in the hall. She motioned to the tall servant that had brought the doctor. "John, could you be spared for the night? Mr. Lucas and Mr. Crawford will have to share an assistant tonight. The doctor may make some requests of you. Nora, will you also ask Cook if he can send up his boy tomorrow morning?"

Fanny brought a hand to her throbbing temple.

"Sally, can you make preparations? I would like you to stay with me during the night at Mr. Tom's bed side. It will be the most difficult night."

"Yes, ma'am" She bobbed before they all disappeared.

Fanny almost laughed at the absurdity, she had never been called "ma'am."

She aimed to return to her bedroom, freshen up a bit before she took on the charge and before the family finished grasping the situation, when she remembered the guests.

She did not want to even imagine what state they may have been left in at the moment. A pang of embarrassment and absolute dread unsettled her stomach.

Every step she took toward the Londoners resurfaced the crisp memory of Miss Croft's question, and the horrible stand still that happened straight after. Above everything, she recalled Mr. Crawford standing to his feet. She had avoided looking at him directly, but she had noticed his sudden movement, it was most likely in an attempt to scold her or berate her for what Miss Croft had revealed.

She could not even imagine what he would be thinking now at this time.

The fear escalated, but she pushed forward to the drawing room they might still be in. She hoped beyond hope Miss Bertram or someone else had attended to them and they were back in their rooms for the night.

Much to her horror, all of the guests were still in the room. Additionally, they were unaccompanied by Julia.

They all turned their eyes to her when she opened the door with varying degrees of concern and in the case of Miss Croft, mild contempt.

Taking a breath, Fanny gave them the best curtsy she could muster. She could not bring herself to look at their faces again, so she kept her eyes to the floor.

"We beg your understanding," She clenched the dress at her sides to keep from wringing her hands. "There were some circumstances.."

"Clearly," Miss Croft said in a staged whisper.

"Miss Price, we understand completely. Is there anything we can do to assist?" Mr. Crawford said over Miss Croft.

Fanny dared a grateful glance at him, but looked away quickly.

"Thank you, Mr. Crawford," Fanny continued hesitantly. "Mr. Tom Bertram has suffered an unfortunate accident. The doctor has been called and he is being attended to presently. We appreciate your concern, but please remain at ease. Your party is welcome to this room or any room for your entertainment."

"Thank you, Miss Price," Mr. Lucas answered this time. "Spare no concern for us, we can amuse ourselves and see ourselves to our rooms."

"Thank you for all your understanding," She nodded at them, and took her leave.

The doctor had ordered the Bertrams' and Mrs. Norris into the hall. It was where Fanny found them, when she returned. Julia was with them as well.

Mrs. Norris was about to say something to her, but the doctor stepped out of the room first.

Fanny pushed the tangle of emotion back to the irritating depth that was her mind. She listened carefully to the detailed instructions of the doctor. She was far from a nurse, but she had nursed a fair share of wounds and illnesses for the family since her arrival, including her own.

As the doctor walked away, the Bertrams' and Mrs. Norris followed him, forgetting Fanny.

She stepped into her cousins' room, determined to banish any distractions, including the concerned look she thought she imagined glimpsing from Mr. Crawford upon her in her departure from them.


	10. Chapter 10 - He let's you down

Unfortunately, Fanny's prediction was correct. That night was one of the most difficult for her cousin, and consequently, for her.

After the doctor departed, Mrs. Norris and Lady Bertram returned to flutter about the unconscious Tom for a few moments before falling back to give orders to Fanny and the maids. Julia, who it seemed had retired to her own rooms, also made a short appearance. She had changed clothing, expressed concern, and sighed many times before taking her leave to attend her guests. Lady Bertram also retired, citing a tremendous headache, and Mrs. Norris accompanied her, but not before giving strict orders to Fanny and the maids on how to properly care for her nephew.

Once the household quieted, the attending women and John were finally able to appropriately care for Mr. Bertram. Tom suffered from a broken leg, a sprained wrist, along with several cuts and bruises. More dangerously, however, his fever was rising and he was in danger of an infection.

Nora had somehow procured screens from the conservatory to place around the bed and before the door. The little maze allowed them to keep the door open for a much needed breeze but also keep the warmth of the fire inside. She eventually excused herself past midnight as she had early tasks the next morning, leaving only Fanny and Sally with John standing guard at the door, napping until they needed his assistance.

They worked in companionable silence, keeping the cloth on Tom's forehead cool and the fire burning. They carefully applied the slave Cook concocted on his arms, face, and legs to treat his cuts and bruises. They carefully applied ointment on the broken leg as the doctor recommended for infection. They had to do so gently and with great caution to not move the makeshift cast.

"Do you believe he will be okay?" Sally asked her. She was not looking at Fanny, her blonde head was bowed over her work.

Fanny paused over Tom, watching his face never quite settle.

"I hope with all my heart, Sally,"

"I have never seen him in such a state," Sally reached for the cloth Fanny had in her hand. "He is in the Lord's hands."

"He is young," Fanny repeated the words of the doctor. They had both heard him, but they looked for reassurance in reiterating his points. "He has a fighting spirit, I have yet to see him lose a challenge." She added the last part herself.

Sally joined her in observing his face. His handsome features were distorted by bruising, although a tiny scratch on his cheek was healing nicely. His dark brows furrowed and his lips quivered as an invisible force fought with him.

"Sally…" Fanny began softly. She did not wish to be overheard, in fact she was hesitant to even bring up the subject. She tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. "The day of the wedding…"

"I want to excuse myself, ma'am." Sally interpreted cautiously. She looked up at her through her lashes. "If I may be so forward, but in all my years I have never seen anything but respectable behavior from you. To me, you seem the most ladylike in the house."

"I…" Fanny immediately wanted to correct her. She wanted to contradict and explain how wrong Sally was, but she felt a lump catch in her throat. She had never been described so, but oh how she wished she was the person Sally described.

She abandoned her plan of speaking about that fateful day, and instead focused on her cousin. She asked Sally questions of her family, of her life, to help distract and keep her awake. Her voice was sweet, and it took a hint of an accent when she spoke for an extended time. Sally retold stories of her colorful youth as a child living by the sea.

A few hours before sunrise, Tom became delirious with fever and he thrashed excessively, smearing the slave and ointments. He cried in pain, weather from the bruises, his broken leg, or nightmares, they were unsure. They cried to John, and he and Fanny restrained him as Sally pressed cool cloths of medicine on his body until he settled.

After changing the stained sheets, Sally fell at the bedside in prayer. Fanny had come to understand how pious the girl was. Fanny hummed as she cleaned his wounds and reapplied the slave, an old hymn her mother had taught her. When she finished, she noticed exhaustion had finally taken Sally. On her knees, her head fell into her arms in the midst of prayer.

Taking a moment, she took a knee and finished the prayer for Sally, genuinely grasping for a miracle. She was truly frightened, as if she could feel Death itself waiting in the corner of the room. It was that only thought that forced her to open her burning eyes to avoid joining Sally in slumber. The cloth on Tom's forehead was already warm again, and she replaced it with one from the basin of cool water. She cleaned his sweat and pushed back his damp hair.

Seeing her cousin in this state was strange and frightening in and of itself. A man of temper, he was always laughing or arguing, always larger than life. Now he was so small, as he battled the demons behind his closed eyes. He moaned in pain intermediately, sometimes almost a scream, but it was when he was still that Fanny grew frightened.

She settled into a routine of cleaning and reapplying slaves when he wiped it off in his thrashing. The routine gave her purpose so she would not fall asleep and it allowed her to continuously monitor his breath and reassure her he was alive.

The room had begun to lighten, when Tom finally fell into a restful sleep, occasionally shivering. His chest rose and fell generously enough to her great relief. She was surprised when a few tears escaped her eyes in relief.

She quickly wiped them as Sally stirred.

"Oh, ma'am, I am so-" Sally stood quickly.

Fanny shook her head, silencing her. She was too happy to care. Tom had survived the night.

Together, Sally and Fanny reapplied Cook's slave one last time. The bruises were looking worse this morning, but the slave seemed to sooth him a bit. They arranged his clothing and brushed his hair as best they could before John made an appearance and helped them. They stepped out as he made applications of the slave they could not.

In the hall, Fanny was grateful for the absence of the fire, her eyes watered as they extracted the smoke from the night before.

There was shuffling coming from a few rooms over, and Fanny suspected their guests had decided on an early morning.

"Sally, go rest." Fanny stifled a yawn. "We have a few moments before we are needed again."

"Yes, ma'am," Sally barely nodded before she stumbled to her room.

Fanny also made her escape before she was forced to make pleasantries with not so pleasant guests.

* * *

Henry had risen early as a consequence of having retired early to escape Miss Bertram's dramatics. He knew it was perhaps unfair of him, since her brother was in an unfortunate accident, but she could very easily visit Tom Bertram instead of venting sadly at them, specifically him.

He had heard commotion a little ways from his door and he assumed it was in front of the very same Bertram's door. He had opened the door to investigate when he saw Miss Price and a maid.

He had paused, taking in the tired disposition of the women, obviously having spent the night caring for Mr. Bertram. They both had spots under their eyes, and they seemed to barely be able to hold themselves up.

"Sally, go rest," Miss Price told the maid caringly.

Her voice shocked Henry for some reason. It was not the unsure quiet tone she took when she was with company. While still soft, there was fluid confidence and sweetness. Their conversations had come close to this, but not quite. She was completely at ease, if not completely exhausted.

She reached one of her small hands and unconsciously pulled a pin that caused her already disarrayed hair to tumble down. She pulled it over her shoulder.

"We have a few moments before we are needed again." She stifled a yawn.

They parted ways, and Henry was still rooted in the same place. The uncomfortable acknowledgement of his spying position dawned on him.

What could he have said anyways? He could not bring up what happened the day before, not in her current state. Especially not when he was working out the happenings himself. He realized that he understood very little.

The only thing that was clear was that Miss Price's hair was very pretty.


End file.
